


Between the Pages

by ladyamesindy



Series: Serafina Shepard [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:39:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyamesindy/pseuds/ladyamesindy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of oneshots relating specifically to "After the Rain."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coming Around ... Again

  
  
  
Coherency was returning.  Enough, at least, to recognize that she was in that in-between stage, the one where a person just began to recognize the sounds and smells around them but they were still too groggy or sleepy or whatever to completely come out of the haze that wrapped so tightly around the consciousness.  Where aches and pains could be felt, yet the entirety of the damage done could not be fully processed.  Certain sounds were also recognizable: the soft shuffles of cushioned footsteps, the hushed tones wrapping around vocabulary used by medical professionals, the constant and incessant beeping of equipment.  Shepard recognized it all.  Identification of her location was there because, sadly, it was becoming an all too familiar place for her to be.  Memories of the last time she’d woken from the depths of unconsciousness deep in the heart of a Cerberus base and ….  
  
“NO!”  
  
Heart lurching at the thought of history repeating itself, Shepard’s eyes snapped wide open for the briefest of moments before closing sharply against the brightness around her, pain of another sort immediately beginning to pound at her temples.  Head turning sideways, she tried to burrow back into the darkness, into the safety of peace and away from wave after wave of pain and nausea.  
  
A pressure at her shoulder, however, kept her grounded to her surroundings.  “Relax, commander,” a vaguely familiar voice murmured, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.  Shepard hissed at the tinge of pain that rolled through the area.  “You are safe.”  
  
She tried to respond, but couldn’t.  Her lips parted to speak, but all that came out was a soft groan, one that she was not certain was more a complaint against the touch than a coherent collection of thoughts.  She tried pulling in a deep breath next, thinking perhaps that might help, but that hurt too.  The coughing fit that followed nearly sent her back to the black abyss once more.   _Ribs,_ she thought  with a groan. _Definitely the ribs._  Moments later, she felt something firm pressing against her cheeks, across the bridge of her nose, cupping the underside of her chin.  She could feel the outline of a shape.  “Just for a little while,” the voice promised.  Almost at the same time, Shepard felt the cool whoosh of air against her face and and along with it came realization.  Sighing, she relaxed, her panicked breaths automatically calming and syncing with the cool influx of oxygen.  
  
The hum and bustle around her continued and curiosity had Shepard daring another, though this time more cautious, attempt to open her eyes.  First the merest of slits, eventually easing into half-lidded cover and when the blurriness of her vision finally faded, she dared to open them completely.  What she found before her, though, was not exactly what she had expected.  Several faces, all of which had that familiar ‘I am here to help you’ look common to medical professionals the galaxy over, turned in her direction offering her warm and reassuring smiles.  That certainly was a relief compared to the last time she’d awoken under medical care.  However, these were not the faces she’d been hoping for.  Except perhaps the one ….   “Dr. Michel?”  Behind the mask, her voice sounded like a muffled croak of a frog.  
  
The doctor’s smile widened as Shepard recognized her.  “Yes, commander,” she returned, stepping closer.  As Shepard tried to move, though, attempting to push herself upwards into a seated position, the doctor placed her hand on her shoulder and pressed gently back.  It did not take much effort, Shepard noted, which in the end told her quite a bit about her current state.  “Please, commander … you must relax.  You have been unconscious for quite a long while now.”  
  
 _“... quite a long while …”_  Shepard’s eyes slowly lifted to meet the doctor’s.  “How … long?”  Again, she tried to lift herself, head turning, eyes darting around the space searching for those familiar to her, those whom she needed to see.  Again, pressure had her falling back against the bed.  A flare of irritation had her eyes narrowing.  
  
Dr. Michel chuckled softly.  “Long enough, commander, that you will need time to adjust,” she warned.  Turning away, the doctor handed a datapad over to one of her assistants who immediately left the room.  Turning back to her patient, she began ticking items off on her fingers as she detailed Shepard’s injuries.  The commander’s eyes drifted during the conversation, first towards the leg that was encased in plaster before eyeing the line of fluids attached to her arm.  Assorted other injuries were only identifiable by the aches remaining in those areas.  “We placed you in a coma,” the doctor concluded, drawing Shepard’s gaze once more.  “It was to give your body time to recover, for your injuries to heal without any added stresses.”  
  
Shepard swallowed.  A coma.  Unconscious for an extended period.  But …?  “How long?” she repeated.  She tried lifting her arm again, but felt the weakness there.  The doctor’s warning of an adjustment period returning.    
  
“Two months.”  
  
Shepard blinked.   _Two months?_  She felt a strange urge to panic building inside of her.  She could not keep losing time like this!  What would the others be thinking?  What would …?  Shepard’s eyes drifted towards the door to the room then.   _The others … Kaidan … Liara … Garrus … Tali … ._  Again, she tried to move into a seated position.  This time, the doctor was more accommodating by adjusting the tilt of the bed for her.  Exhausted from the process, Shepard nodded her thanks and sank back.  It was enough for the moment.  “Where …?”  
  
Dr. Michel reached for another datapad nearby.  Scrolling through, she seemed to be searching for something.  “You have been here since the destruction of the Reapers, commander,” she informed her.  “An extraction team was able to rescue you from the Citadel and evacuate you.  The injuries you sustained were … significant.”  
  
Shepard nodded vaguely.  She had hazy memories of those last moments, of trying to open the arms of the Citadel for Admiral Hackett, of facing the Catalyst, of the nearly overwhelming sense of loss that had plagued her as she made her decision.  It had been the toughest call she had ever had to make in her career.  But she hadn’t hesitated.  The last thing she recalled were the heat, flames and debris as the world around her exploded.   _Significant._  She snorted softly.  When had she ever suffered any other sort of injury over the years?    
  
“Where is ... here?” she finally managed after struggling to push that line of thinking aside for the time being.  
  
“Vancouver, commander,” the doctor informed her.  “You are in Vancouver.  Admiral Hackett requested my assistance to treat you and the facilities here were in the best shape.”  
  
Shepard nodded, feeling her eyes close for a moment, slow, deep breaths were her focus for a time.  The panic was receding somewhat, though it was lingering there, in the shadows for some odd reason.  Anxiety was not an issue for her.  Usually.  So why was it trying to ambush her now of all times?   _You’ve lost another two months,_ a voice in the back of her head reminded her.   _Isn’t that reason enough?  Two years plus two months … how much more?_    
  
“Admiral Hackett?” she echoed, latching onto something familiar then.  “He made it?  The Crucible worked?”  
  
The doctor nodded.  “Yes.  You did it, commander,” Dr. Michel explained.  “You defeated the Reapers.  Many people owe their lives to you.”  
  
Shepard frowned.  She’d defeated the Reapers … but if that was the case why, then, was she alive?  The Catalyst had told her she and all synthetic life would be destroyed ….  Yet here she was, awake and breathing.  What did that mean?  Moving forward once more, Shepard winced at the various signs of discomfort throughout her body.  There was the proof she was alive, if she required any.  What she needed was to be up, moving.  She needed to _feel_ alive again in order for it to process, right?  She needed ….  “Where’s my crew?”  
  
“Lie back, commander,” the doctor reminded her.  
  
This time, though, Shepard actually fought against the pressure of the woman’s hand against her shoulder as she felt an urgent desperation kick in, pushing at her, driving her.  Was it that little voice inside her head?    
  
“Commander, please.  You are not well enough to move about just yet.”  
  
Shepard shook her head once.  “No.  Doctor, I need to be up.  Moving.  I need to find my crew.  I need -”  
  
“Commander, please!” Dr. Michel’s voice rose and broke in while gesturing to one of her assistants to move up on Shepard’s other side.  “You are not well enough to be moving around on your own just yet.  You are still recovering from your injuries and you have certain other conditions with which to be concerned!”  
  
Shepard struggled a moment longer.  “What other conditions, doctor?” she challenged in frustration as she felt a bit more of her old spit and fire return mixed with a bit of irritation and anger.  She was alive, that was clear.  And if she was alive she’d have to deal with the consequences of the choices she’d made.  Well, she’d done that before too.  Not quite at this scale, perhaps, but she’d done it.  That fact didn’t make it any easier to deal with, maybe.  Guilt taking hold for just a moment, she continued,  “Isn’t it bad enough that, thanks to Cerberus, I can’t seem to die no matter what happens to me?”   _Now there’s an interesting question.  How the hell did I make it?_ she wondered, that little voice niggling once more.   _It had to be the cybernetics … but according to the Catalyst, that should have killed me.  It’s not that I’m not grateful to be alive, but ….  WHERE ARE THE OTHERS?_  
  
Dr. Michel glanced over her shoulder.  “Get me the sedative, please,” she instructed before turning back to face Shepard.  “Commander Shepard, I do not want to do this, but if you do not calm down I will sedate you again.  You must relax and lie back!  You are still healing.  You need -”  
  
Shepard felt at a loss as to the source of her desperation, but she could do nothing to stop it from taking over.  “I need -”  
  
“You need to take care for your child, commander!”  
  
At first, Shepard thought she’d misheard the doctor.  After all, she’d just woken from a coma, right?  Her eyes had taken some time to readjust, as had her voice.  Surely her hearing might suffer?  But as her eyes met the doctor’s, Shepard read the expression there.  Eyes widening just a bit, Shepard slumped back against the pillows and managed to croak, “What?”    
  
“You are pregnant, commander.  This is not the way in which I wished to tell you, but you must listen!  The damage to your body was extensive.  Right now, if you were to stand up I doubt you would be able to move one step.  Returning to ‘normal’ will be a gradual thing.  Between your injuries and the child you are carrying, you must take things slowly!”  
  
Shepard could only stare blankly at the woman for the longest time.  Okay, maybe she had died, right?  The doctor kept saying there was a child and she … well, that couldn’t be right, could it?  She was a soldier, not a mother.  Well, okay, so she was _sort of_ a mother to her crew, but that was to be expected of a ship’s captain, right?  No, it was clear - she’d died and gone to … well, somewhere ….  Any moment Mordin was going to come into the room singing Gilbert and Sullivan and Thane would be following right behind with Anderson beside him ….  
  
“Commander?”  The doctor reached a hand down to check Shepard’s pulse at her wrist.  “Commander Shepard?”  
  
“I died, right?”  It was barely a whisper, but Shepard knew the doctor had heard when she noted the amusement in the other woman’s eyes.  “This is some sort of -”  
  
“No, commander,” the doctor chuckled, “you have not died.  In fact, you are the furthest thing from it.”  
  
The panic was back in an instant and breathing was becoming difficult again.  The doctor’s assistant was replacing the oxygen mask (Shepard wasn’t sure when it had been removed, or how) and Shepard found she could not find the energy to resist or stop him.    
  
“Good afternoon, doctor.  How is our patient doing?”  
  
Shepard’s head was turning towards the familiar voice before she could stop herself.  “Admiral Hackett,” the doctor greeted him with a smile and gestured him into the room.  “As you can see, the commander has rejoined us … for the moment.”  
  
Shepard glanced back and forth between the two as they spoke.  She remained silent as the doctor updated Admiral Hackett to Shepard’s condition.  Closing her eyes, she thought how surreal everything was in that moment.  Perhaps if she closed her eyes she could fall back to sleep and wake up at a later time when reality returned and ….  
  
But that was not to be either, it seemed.  Within moments, the thought barely having crossed her mind, she heard the admiral asking the medical staff to allow him a few moments alone with her.  Swallowing her emotions lest the man see her at her worst, she managed to find her voice.  “Sir.”  
  
“Commander.”  He pulled a chair over so he could sit beside the bed.  “That was a hell of a thing you managed to pull out there.”  
  
Shepard nodded.  “I had a good team, sir,” she murmured.    
  
Hackett nodded in return.  “That you did, commander, but I think we all know where the real credit lies.”    
  
Shepard bit her lip and held her tongue.  She disliked being the center of attention.  She did her job the best she could, plain and simple.  She wasn’t out for accolades or medals or any sort of recognition for doing her duty.  And good people had been lost along the way in the process.  This had been a team effort.  
  
When she remained silent, Hackett continued, “Now that you’re awake and on the mend, though, we could use your help once again.”  
  
That caught her a bit off guard.  Lifting her gaze, Shepard met his.  Gesturing weakly towards her bed, she pointed out, “Sir, I don’t know that I can -”  
  
Hackett chuckled.  “Obviously you would need some time to recuperate,” he agreed.  “Dr. Michel has made that clear in no uncertain terms.  However, once you are back on your feet, _Major Shepard_ , there is an office at headquarters awaiting your undivided attention.”  
  
Two things caught her attention, both leading to the same result.  She had been promoted … to a desk job.  Command of the _Normandy_ was being taken from her.  “Sir?”    
  
Almost immediately as she began struggling to sit up, the admiral began shaking his head.  “Relax, major,” he assured her.  “Don’t make me call Dr. Michel back in here just yet.”    
  
Sighing heavily, Shepard complied.  But … what about the _Normandy_?  “I … I’m not sure I’m cut out for a desk job, sir,” she attempted to protest.  After all she’d been through to get to this point, would they really do _that_ to her?  Take away her ship and put her on a desk job?  Retirement would be better than that!   _Perhaps I ought to find Garrus and take him up on that offer …._  
  
Hackett chuckled.  “Nonsense.  The war with the Reapers may be over, Shepard, but the battle to rebuild our forces is just beginning.  I need your expertise and insight to help with that.”  Rising to his feet, he added, “I’ve given you enough to think about for the moment.  For now just focus on getting well.  Once you’ve done that, the rest will fall into place.”    
  
Shepard nodded, her head feeling fuzzy with the influx of information, almost as if she’d taken a bad blow.  Her entire world seemed to have taken a drastic turn, one for which she was completely unprepared.  “Yes sir.”  Shepard glanced over to see the doctor returning into the room then as the admiral turned away.    
  
“Oh, and Shepard?”  
  
Her gaze returned to the admiral.  “Sir?”  
  
“Dr. Michel will be reporting directly to me.  I will know if you’re disobeying orders.”  
  
Groaning, Shepard fell back onto the pillows.  In the distance, she couldn’t help but wonder if the chuckling she thought she heard came from the admiral himself.    
  
  
  



	2. The Methuselah Plan

_Sure, everything will change, but on our terms.  We’ve been running until now, Miranda.  It has to stop … This isn’t goodbye.  You have to believe we’re not done yet …  Be careful ..._  
  
The words the two had exchanged via vidcom had been haunting Miranda ever since she had spoken with Shepard in London.  The war was done, but  … It couldn’t be over.  It just couldn’t!  Shepard had promised.  And if there was one thing Miranda knew about Commander Shepard, it was that she kept her promises.  That, and the woman had a habit of defeating insurmountable odds.  
  
In those first few days after the Reapers’ destruction, Miranda had been surprised at how … distraught she’d been.  She considered Shepard a friend, and a good one at that.  It had taken time for her to come to that conclusion, though.  Experience.  Seeing Shepard interact with others, too, had helped.  She’d been ‘Commander’ from the beginning, but what Miranda hadn’t realized then was that it was more than just a title or rank.  It was a way of life for the woman.  She led her people, cared about them and in return, they gave her their respect, their loyalty … because she made them _believe_.   
  
And while Miranda had struggled to come to terms with all of these feelings, some of which hadn’t occurred to her until it was too late, Oriana had noticed which led to the younger woman fussing over her bigger sister, concerned like any younger sibling would have been.  But then again, Ori was smart.  Almost as smart as Miranda herself, and it hadn’t taken the younger woman long to identify the specifics of the problem.  
  
“Isn’t there anything we can do, Randa?”  Ori asked when they’d discussed it.  After all, the woman had helped save her life twice, too.    
  
Miranda sighed.  “Maybe if I’d installed that chip I’d wanted to during the Lazarus Project we could have, Ori.  Then, at least, we’d have had something we could track.  But now ….”  Miranda shuddered, hating herself for falling back to her old ideas, that old plan she’d wanted to follow through on.  The one that Shepard had basically said to forget her worries over.  She’d actually waved Miranda’s concerns off to the side when they’d spoken of it on the Citadel that last time.  And now Miranda was wishing ….  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
The thoughtful note to her sister’s tone had Miranda glancing over at Oriana quickly.  “What is it, Ori?”  
  
“Tell me about the Lazarus Project again,” the younger woman murmured as she reached for a datapad on which she could take notes.    
  
Miranda’s brow lifted in question, but she began repeating the information she’d given her sister the last time she’d asked for it.  As she did, she watched Oriana consider the information, occasionally jotting down notes.  She could almost see how her sister’s mind was working as she sat there.  Eyes focused in the distance, but wheels behind them churning away.  “What are you thinking?”  
  
Oriana sat back in her chair, her fingers running lightly against the line of her jaw as she pondered the information she’d been given.  “You’re wanting to find her again, aren’t you?”  
  
Miranda nodded.  “I owe her that much, Ori.  At least that much, if not more.  She’s … a friend.  One of the only ones I can really trust.”    
  
Oriana smiled at her sister then.  “Then I’ve got the beginnings of an idea for you.  If,” she added with a wink, “you’re interested, that is.  But I’m going to need more information on the synthetics you used in her.  Specs, materials, developers, that sort of thing.”  
  
Miranda gave her sister a confused look, but nodded.  “I have it put away.”  Rising, she started down the hall towards her office.  “Come on, I’ll show it to you now if you like.”

* * *

  
  
In the end, Oriana proved to be just as cunning as her older sister.  Perhaps even more so, but Miranda, out of sisterly affection and duty, refused to admit it openly.  Younger sisters didn’t have to know _everything_ about their older sisters, right?  The device itself was nothing overly spectacular.  In reality, it was rather common looking and nondescript.  But in that first week after the destruction of the Reapers, the project gave the sisters something on which to focus their energies instead of worrying about the woman who had saved them both multiple times over.  By the end of two weeks, they were beginning to hear the rumors floating around in the press that Commander Shepard had survived the destruction of the Reapers and had been taken to an undisclosed location for medical treatment.  By that time, Oriana’s little project, dubbed “Methuselah,” was well underway.    
  
The device was to serve a dual purpose.  First, it would help them track Commander Shepard by locking in on certain harmonics and other specifications of the synthetics that Miranda had grafted into her body during the Lazarus reconstruction.  Second, it would be able to verify that the person it locked in on was indeed the real Commander Shepard.    
  
After four weeks of intense research, meticulous tests and too many late nights to count, the device was ready for a test run.  Oriana broached that subject with her sister at breakfast one morning, assuring her sister that it was tuned specifically to Shepard’s unique synthetic replacements.  No one else had any like hers.  Anyone else who had anything close to resembling it had been destroyed at Cronos Station or on the Citadel during the last battle.  It was now time for the planning to begin.  While Oriana had been working on her device, Miranda had been completely focused on doing her own research by tracking down any and all references to Shepard’s current location.  Just days before Oriana’s announcement, Miranda had narrowed the commander’s location down to three possible places: London, Rio and Vancouver.    
  
They ventured to London first, though Miranda knew the chances of Shepard being there were next to nothing, and if she was then the Alliance needed to rethink many of its current strategies for keeping the hero of the Reaper War in that same location.  The city and all of the buildings in it were too badly damaged to safely house all who were in dire need of medical attention.  However, to be certain they were thorough in their investigation, she and Ori spent a week there looking into any and every possibility.  Only after exhausting all leads did they decide to push on to Vancouver.  
  
It was here that the two women got a lucky break.  While meeting with a ‘contact’ who still worked within the Alliance military, Miranda was able to discover that Shepard was indeed located at an Alliance facility in that city.  After another day or two spent gathering information, she managed to obtain labcoats and appropriate uniforms for both her and Oriana so that on the evening of the third day, during the overnight shift change, the two were able to not only gain access to the heavily protected building, but to the floor of Shepard’s room.  They were careful, patiently taking their time, remaining unnoticed by those around them, and after what seemed like an eternity, they were finally able to gain access to the room, _her_ room.  Miranda approached the bed first, shaking from the shock that rolled through her at the sight that met her eyes.  
  
After nearly six weeks since the end of the Reaper War, Shepard still looked as if she had only just been removed from the battlefield.  She’d been cleaned up, of course; wounds were bandaged and a heavy cast encased her right leg from hip to toe, but there were other signs of just what a difficult fight it had been for her.  New scars near her eyes, around her cheek, and one on her jaw line.  Bruises, blisters and burns that covered most other parts of exposed skin.  Though the damage was presumably cosmetic (at least Miranda hoped it was otherwise she’d have a few choice words for Shepard’s medical team and their manner of treatment), it still had the former Cerberus agent pulling her lower lip between her teeth in worry.    
  
“Randa, it’s definitely her.”  
  
Ori’s whispered observation brought Miranda back to the present.  “Right.”  Glancing around, Miranda found the datapad that contained Shepard’s current medical condition laying nearby and began reading through the notes there.  “Shit,” she muttered, hurrying through and feeling her stomach drop at the seriousness of the damage.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Ori asked, turning to examine some of the nearby machines and their readouts.  
  
“They’ve put her in a medically induced coma.  Internal damage.  Leg.  Ribs.  Lungs.  Hip …. Wait.”  Miranda blinked before she began chuckling softly.  “Oh, Shepard!” she murmured in amusement as she read the rest.    
  
“Randa?”  
  
“Later, Ori.  I’ll tell you later.  We don’t have much time right now.”  Setting the datapad back in it’s place, Miranda began examining the machine readouts on her side of the bed while her sister went to check the outer hall.  Miranda nodded to herself as she made mental notes.  So far, things looked to be going well enough.   
  
It wasn’t long before Oriana was whispering urgently, “Randa, someone’s coming!”  
  
Miranda nodded again, shooing her sister towards the door.  “I’m coming,” she whispered before leaning over the form lying so still in the bed.  “Shepard, I will be back,” she promised quickly.  “Get yourself better soon.  We need to talk.”

* * *

  
  
Two weeks after the sisters’ initial visit, the news was broadcasting that Commander-now-Major Shepard of the Alliance Navy had regained consciousness and was well on her way towards recovery.  No sooner was the announcement made than public discussions regarding honors and recognition and all sorts of other potential festivities to celebrate the woman who had saved Earth and the galaxy began in the press.  It was enough to cause Miranda to roll her eyes.  Knowing Shepard as she did, she could imagine the woman at the center of all the attention feeling the same.    
  
“You should go see her again,” Ori commented one evening at dinner.    
  
Miranda glanced up from her meal and felt a smirk pull at her lips.  “Oh really?” she returned in her usual manner.  “And just how, or better yet why, do you think the Alliance would let me within a thousand meters of that place?”  
  
Ori flashed her sister a knowing grin.  “Because Shepard will want to see you.  That’s your trump card, Randa.  Besides,” Ori offered a wink this time, “if they don’t let you in, we’ll just … find another way.”   
  
Which, Miranda supposed as she found herself chuckling, was her sister’s subtle way of advising that she would be accompanying Miranda on this venture.  “Alright, Ori.  We’ll try.”

* * *

  
  
Much to Miranda’s surprise, the brief message she sent to Admiral Hackett’s attention (if only so she could truthfully say that she had explored _all_ possible options) received a positive response.  A week after her initial request had been made, procedures and paperwork caught up with each other and Miranda was notified that both she and Oriana could visit Shepard at the hospital.    
  
Not a lot had changed in the weeks since her clandestine visit, Miranda noted as they entered the facility.  There was still were too many patients and a substantial lack of beds, but from all appearances it seemed as if things were, if only slightly, beginning to improve.  It would be something to keep an eye on the next time she visited as well.   
  
It startled Miranda as she and Oriana arrived on Shepard’s floor and checked in at the nurses’ station that she suddenly felt … nervous.  Shepard had promised her that things would change but on _their_  terms.  But would the Commander remember her words?  The few head injuries she had sustained had seemed minor when Miranda examined her during the last visit, but that didn’t necessarily mean that there wouldn’t be some sort of … memory issues.  
  
“Randa,” Oriana hissed softly while tugging at her sister’s hand, “come on!”  
  
Miranda reluctantly followed, desperately trying to pull herself together as she traveled down the hall.  Though the alliance that she and Shepard had formed nearly three years before had started out on shaky ground, but it had solidified into a strong friendship even before they had made their suicide run to the Collector base beyond the Omega 4 Relay.  By the end of the Reaper War, there had been no doubts in Miranda’s mind that Shepard considered her a friend.  But what if …?  
  
Oriana’s enthusiasm apparently knew no bounds, though, as the younger woman all but dragged her sister into the room behind her.  Miranda’s eyes turned to her right immediately upon entering, recalling the location of the bed.  And there, lying back in a semi-reclined position and propped up somewhat by several pillows were the familiar baby blues that Miranda remembered.  Even before she could greet Shepard, Miranda saw the recognition in the other woman’s eyes and felt her nerves calming quickly.  “Shepard.”

* * *

  
  
Thankfully, a nurse had given her a heads up that she had visitors on the way in.  In the few minutes grace that Shepard had before Miranda and Oriana Lawson’s arrival, she’d at least been able to brush her hair back and straighten her appearance somewhat.  Not that she cared overly much or anything, but at least she didn’t look as much of a wreck as she had the day she’d regained consciousness.  “Miranda.”  Shepard couldn’t hold back a grin.  Based on their last conversation together, this wasn’t quite how she’d expected to see her friend again, but if Miranda was willing to take the first step, Shepard would not ignore it.  “Oriana.”  She smiled at the younger woman as well.  “Come on in.  I’m glad to see you.  Both of you.”  
  
Shepard kept her eyes on Miranda as the two entered.  She had some concerns about her friend because of their last conversation.  Not because she felt her safety was threatened at all, but because Miranda had seemed so convinced that things would _have_ to go back to the way they had been before.  And Shepard refused to let that happen.  Shifting a bit in the bed, Shepard watched as the two pulled over two of the chairs and sat down.  “So, how have you been?” she asked, hoping it would be a general enough conversation starter to maybe get things going.  
  
“Good,” Miranda replied, smiling at her sister.  “Better than ever, I guess you could say.”  
  
Shepard smiled.  She understood quite well what Miranda was driving at.  “Glad to hear it.  I see you managed to stay safe during that last battle.”  
  
Miranda nodded.  “Admiral Hackett had Oriana helping with the Crucible at the end,” she explained, “so I knew she was safe.”  
  
Oriana sighed.  “It was amazing!” the younger woman exuded.  “I wish you could have seen it as we were putting it together!  So many people from all over the galaxy ….”  
  
Shepard bit back a grin at the younger woman’s obvious enthusiasm.  “I did see it at the end,” she reminded her.  “And it obviously worked.”  Her eyes lifted to meet Miranda’s gaze.  “Everything good?”  
  
Miranda smirked.  “Pretty much,” she agreed.  “We’re still trying to sort some stuff out, but … Ori and I now have a chance to start over.  Things are … good.”  
  
Shepard nodded.  “What are you going to do now that the war is over?”    
  
The smile that Miranda offered then had Shepard lifting a brow.  “Oh, I have a few ideas,” she offered, “but nothing definite yet.”  
  
“Hmm.”  Shepard wasn’t certain that made her feel comfortable or concerned.    
  
“I’ll make sure she stays out of trouble,” Oriana assured Shepard with a light chuckle.    
  
Shepard grinned at her, glad to see she didn’t seem to be suffering from any ill effects from her experiences with her father over the past few years.  “I think I’ll hold you to that, Oriana,” Shepard returned with a wink to Ori and a flash of a smile at Miranda.  “Though, knowing her, that might be difficult.”  
  
Oriana grinned.  “Don’t I know it!  You should have seen what we went through to find you!”  
  
Shepard’s eyes landed fully upon her friend then.  “Oh, now this is a story I think I need to hear,” she murmured while settling back into the pillows behind her.  “Care to elaborate, Miranda?”  
  
But to the woman’s credit, she hid any discomfort well.  And within a moment, Shepard understood why.  “Oh, I’ll elaborate alright,” she purred, “but I think you should know, when choosing whose side you’re on in this discussion, that I am very well informed.”  Miranda’s look sparkled then, and Shepard felt a moment of anxiety.   _Everything?_  Her look must have asked the question, because Miranda’s lips widened.  “ _VERY_ well informed.”  
  
Shaking her head, for Miranda left no doubts that she was aware of Shepard’s current situation, Shepard simply smiled back and replied, “Alright … let’s hear it.”


	3. To Catch a Thief

It began quietly enough one afternoon as Shepard was returned to her hospital room after an intensive round of physical therapy.  Upon entering her room, she found a small box of chocolates lying in the middle of her bed.  The box was plain enough, but had a bright red ribbon tied around it flourishing off in a big, floofy red bow and a tag attached with a large ‘S’ written in fancy script.  But that was it as far as identification markings went.  Thinking perhaps it had been meant for someone else (because honestly, there were only a few people out there who would even think of leaving her something like this as a gift and they were all absent at the moment), Shepard asked around the hospital medical staff, but no one seemed to know anything about it or have any further suggestion.  After two days of investigating, Shepard finally gave in and accepted the fact that it probably _had_ been meant for her.  At least, she preferred that explanation to the idea that even at this early date in her pregnancy she was starting to get cravings.  Dr. Michel just laughed and reminded her that any odd behaviors over the coming months could be attributed to her changing hormones.  
  
A week passed and Shepard put the incident out of her mind (save for the occasional late night craving for something chocolate that began creeping in every so often from that point forward).  She continued with her physical therapy and on a day when they finally allowed her to walk back to her room without a nurse hovering at her side should she suddenly ‘decide’ to fall flat on her face, Shepard entered her room to find a book lying upon her bed.  Not one of those datapad readable things, but an actual book.  Hardbound.  Pages.  Typeset print.  Shaking her head in wonder, she carefully and slowly (she was still getting used to walking without the cast) crossed the room and lifted the tome into her hands.  Tilting her head slightly, she read the title … and for just a moment, Shepard felt an ache sear through her heart.    
  
It was a collection of poetry by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.  And hanging out between the pages was a bright red ribbon marker.    
  
Hesitating for a long moment, Shepard turned and sat on the edge of the bed.  Setting the book aside, she glanced down at her hands and saw that they were shaking.  There had been only one person she ever associated Tennyson with, in particularly with his poem _Ulysses_.  Eyeing the book carefully, biting at her lip as she tried to envision the page marked by the ribbon, Shepard continued to hesitate.  What were the odds that was the poem that had been marked?  Slowly, Shepard lifted her fingers to open the book.  What she found inside had her breath catching.  Sure enough, the page marked was the poem that had been the favorite of Ashley’s father, and one that Shepard always associated with her friend.  Not only was the page marked, but lightly and in pencil, Shepard could see the last few lines underlined:  
  
 _Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'_  
 _We are not now that strength which in old days_  
 _Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;_  
 _One equal temper of heroic hearts,_  
 _Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will_  
 _To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield._  
  
Unintentionally, Shepard’s hand forced the book closed with a loud thunk before dropping it quickly to the side on the bed.  Who else would have known?  Kaidan?  Yeah, he probably did.  He’d been as close to Ashley as Shepard had been at the time of her death.  They both knew of Ashley’s love of that particular poem.  But Kaidan wasn’t here.  The _Normandy_ had not yet reported back to earth from what Shepard had been told.  That also excluded Liara, Tali and Garrus from being involved - even Dr. Chakwas and any of the others who might have known Ashely.  So … who then?  Shepard barely noticed the tears trickling down her cheek as she stared down at the tome now lying back on her bed.  Who could it have been?  Fingers tracing slowly over the words on the cover, she tried to think of someone else who might have known … but kept drawing a blank.    
  
Dr. Michel was quick to note the change in Shepard’s mood the next day, but was unable to determine the cause.  It was several days later before she figured it out.  Entering Shepard’s room, she happened to glance up in time to see the major scurrying to tuck a book beneath her pillow, only the very lower edge of a red ribbon marker visible afterwards.    
  
Another week passed.  Then two.  On the eve of Shepard’s return to work for Admiral Hackett, the medical staff decided to have a little party in honor of their model patient.  Shepard nearly called them on their bullshit, but realized after a bit of thought that perhaps the staff needed the distraction as much as she did.  Shepard knew there were other patients in the hospital,  other soldiers from that last battle against the Reapers who were far worse off than she was.  She had occasionally overheard some of the staff discussing them when they didn’t know she was around.    
  
It was afterwards as she was returning to her room for the evening that Shepard was somewhat startled to find a red rose lying across her pillow.  She felt that tug at her heart again, the wish that it could be who she wanted it to be, but she knew it couldn’t possibly be.  Which again left her a dilemma.  Who was it leaving these things on her bed?  Lifting the flower carefully, Shepard closed her eyes for a long moment and inhaled its fragrance.  Another question dogged her then: Where had whoever had left this found a rose of all things?  And a red one at that.  While it was true that Earth had been recovering for the past three months or so, Shepard was certain that red roses were not at the top of the list of necessary agricultural products.  
  
As she turned to set the flower aside on the nightstand, Shepard felt one of the thorns prick at her thumb.  Inhaling sharply, she dropped the bloom and lifted the injured digit to her lips, an instinctual reaction.  But it was as her eyes caught sight of the droplet of blood leaking from the tiny puncture wound that clarity suddenly blindsided her.  Stiffening, straightening, Shepard turned slowly, her thumb still at her lips.  Eyes darting around the room, she looked for any tell tale sign.   _It couldn’t be, could it?_    
  
“Kasumi?”  
  
The soft chuckle from the depths of the shadows verified the identification for Shepard.  “It took you long enough, Shep!”    
  
Shepard turned a bit more to her right then, noting the sudden appearance of the thief as she stepped forward.  The familiar lilting voice behind the hooded visage put her at ease immediately and Shepard could not help but smile at her friend.  “Good to see you again, Kasumi.”  
  
“And you, Shepard,” the woman agreed.  “Though from what I understand it was a close thing there for a while.  Touch and go, even.”  
  
Shepard sighed and nodded.  “That’s what they tell me.”  Gesturing towards a nearby chair, Shepard sat on the edge of the bed.  “So … what have you been up to?”  
  
Kasumi chuckled.  “I will assume you mean since we last spoke and you fired the Crucible,” she observed.  “Well, let’s see … I think I’ll describe it as ‘same old same old’ and leave it at that.  Sound good?”  
  
Shepard’s eyes met the thief’s for a long moment.  That could be taken one of two ways ….  “Keiji?”  
  
Kasumi shook her head.  “No.  You were right on that,” she commented.  “It was time to move on.  Besides, once I finally gave that information over to Bau, there really was no point in keeping Keiji’s greybox any longer.”  
  
Shepard frowned.  “But the memories ….”  
  
Kasumi’s smile turned wistful.  “Will always be in here,” she returned, pointing at her head.  “You were right, Shep, back when we first recovered Keiji’s greybox.  I needed to figure it out for myself, though.  And I did.  When I made the decision to give Bau the information, I destroyed the greybox.”  She shrugged her slender shoulders.  “It’s time to move on.”  
  
Shepard nodded.  After a few minutes of shared silence, she ventured, “So … what brings you here of all places?”  
  
Kasumi grinned.  “You, of course!”  Chuckling softly, she sat back in her chair just a bit and glanced up at Shepard.  “Actually, Admiral Hackett contacted me, let me know you were awake.  I guess he figured he owed me that much after the help I gave with the Crucible.  So, how are you feeling?  You seem to be moving around better now at least.  More like your old self.”  
  
Shepard blinked.  “You’ve been here then?” she asked.  “All this time?”  
  
Kasumi laughed lightly.  “Oh, not all the time.  I did see you that first visit, though, and stuck around for a day or two to observe.”  She flashed Shepard a conspiratorial wink as she continued, “Just to make sure they were taking good care of you.”  
  
Shepard chuckled.  “Thanks,” she replied after a moment, shaking her head at the peculiarities that life seemed to continuously offer her.  “I think.”  Adjusting her position on the side of the bed to something more comfortable, she added, “So I guess it’s you I have to blame for my sudden craving for chocolate?”  
  
Kasumi’s grin widened just a bit.  “Perhaps.  I’m more curious about that party out there …  Are they setting you free?”  
  
Shepard sighed.  “Not completely,” she admitted.  “It’s … complicated.  They want me to stay here for a while, follow up on my recovery and such, but they are letting me go back to work.”  Which at least would give her some sort of distraction from the remaining questions that continued unanswered.    
  
“Ahh.”  
  
Shepard glanced over at the thief.  “What do you mean, ‘ahh’?”  
  
Kasumi chuckled again.  “Oh, nothing particular.”  
  
Shepard frowned.  “Kasumi ….”  
  
The thief chuckled some more and took a step closer to the bed before dropping a small wrapped package in front of Shepard.  “I should get going,” Kasumi murmured.  When Shepard looked startled and slightly forlorn, she added, “Don’t worry, Shep.  I’ll be back to visit.  When you least expect it.”    
  
Shepard’s eyes followed Kasumi as she easily slipped back into the shadows.  Shaking her head in wonder, she turned her attention back to the gift that the woman had left.  Wrapped in gold paper, again with a red bow and a tag with a large ‘S’ on it, Shepard took it in hand and tugged at the ribbon.  As it came apart beneath her hands, the paper following with it, Shepard found herself swallowing tightly.   _Oh, Kasumi … you didn’t …_.  Biting her lip, Shepard pulled the metallic frame from the wrappings and turned it so that she could trigger the image she knew she would find there.  This frame had sat upon her desk on board the _Normandy_ for months during their time together on board.  Shepard had turned it face down after Horizon, uncertain of where they had stood with each other and forgotten all about it, only noticing it was missing much later.  Now, fingers lifting to trace the beloved familiar face that appeared there, Shepard whispered, “Kasumi, you’re a romantic fool!” though there was no heat behind her words.  Apparently, the thief had known there was something more there and ‘saved’ it for some future time.  
  
From the distance out in the hall, Shepard swore she could hear light laughter trailing away.  “No more so than you, Shepard!”    
  
Grinning, easy laughter flowing from her lips as she set the photograph of Kaidan aside on her nightstand, Shepard prepared herself for bed while quietly thanking whatever gods, goddesses and spirits existed for the friends that she had.


	4. Exclusive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's favorite embedded reporter returns.

  
  
  
Arms lifting over her head, back arching at just the right angle, Shepard sighed a bit in relief as she felt each vertebrae in her spine popping just enough and the tension in her shoulders easing up a bit with the movement.  This was yet another reason she detested being desk-bound.  Stiffness.  Tension.  Hunching shoulders.  At least when she had been stationed out in the field she’d had a somewhat regular routine of physical activity … even if it had been mostly fighting for her life against Cerberus or the Reapers.  These days, however, the most activity she could seem to get came from walking across the street to find someplace to eat lunch ….  
  
A persistent beeping from her omni-tool alerted Shepard just then.  “Yes, Shannon?”  Shepard sighed.  The lieutenant was good, she had to agree, but Shepard still insisted that Admiral Hackett had gone too far by giving her an administrative specialist.   _That all but tells me he plans to keep me grounded.  Dammit!_  
  
“Ma’am, you have a visitor.”  
  
Shepard frowned and eyed the nearby datapad containing the day’s agenda.  Her next appointment wasn’t for two hours yet.  “Oh?  Who is it?”  
  
“A reporter.”  
  
Shepard nearly laughed aloud at the flatness of Shannon’s tone.  Apparently, the lieutenant had no love for the media either.  Shepard knew from personal experience that associating with the press could be a hit or miss experience.  She’d had both good luck and bad over the years.  But that aside, she also knew that now that she was more or less released from the hospital and back in the eye of the public, even if it meant working in an office, she would be fair game for the media to start after.  Shepard frowned as she wondered just which news service was already sending out their vultures ….  “I’ll be right there.”  
  
Rising to her feet, Shepard automatically moved to dim the displays and turn off the datafeeds as she crossed the room.  The press, being what it was, didn’t need to see anything, or even a _hint_ of anything … assuming that this person even got so far as to be allowed to enter her office in the first place.  Finally satisfied that everything had been taken into account and was safely shielded from prying eyes, Shepard turned towards the door and opened it.  
  
Stepping into the reception area, Shepard’s eyes followed Shannon’s head nod across the room.  Though she could not clearly identify the woman standing near the window from this distance, Shepard was able to pick up on several small tells.  “Diana?”  
  
Turning, the brunette smiled widely at Shepard.  “Major Shepard!  Good to see you up and about again.”  
  
Shepard couldn’t help but smile in return.  Though she wasn’t sure she could go so far as to declare Diana Allers a ‘friend,’ she was nonetheless glad to see her.  “And you survived London, I see,” she replied.  “Should I assume your ratings were off the charts after that event?”  
  
Diana chuckled.  “Following the intrepid Commander Shepard into Earth’s final battle for survival?  The only journalist having a live feed during the final assault on the Citadel?  Of course!”  Despite the woman’s comments, Diana knew it had been her misfortune to not have a live camera feed hooked up to Shepard’s visor during that last battle, though from what she’d heard later and seen firsthand of the remnants of Shepard’s armor she’d been wearing at the time, it probably wouldn’t have survived to make it up into the Citadel.  
  
Smile still in place, Shepard waved her reassurances at Shannon before guiding the camera-less reporter into her office.  Instead of moving over to the sofa or the chairs beside her desk, however, she instead gestured across the room to the doorway leading out onto the balcony.  “So,” Shepard commented as they both walked up to the railing, leaning against it and looking out onto the view beyond, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”  
  
Allers’ smile was in her tone as she murmured, “Careful there, Major, you wouldn’t want me thinking you were being all serious now, would you?”  
  
Shepard rolled her eyes, but otherwise remained silent for a moment.  The war might be over, they might not be aboard the _Normandy_ any longer, and despite occasional headbutting throughout the war, Allers had been helpful throughout the conflict, both personally and professionally.  Shepard would not forget that.  “We certainly wouldn’t want that,” she retorted in a tone filled with as much sarcasm as she could muster.  When Diana laughed in return, Shepard smiled back.  “Seriously, though Diana.  What’s up?  I would have thought you’d be off chasing after surviving troops for their war stories or something.”    
  
Diana turned to face the bay, leaning her forearms against the railing, a slight and intentionally provocative curve to her back resulting in the process.  The move was lost on Shepard, and Diana well knew that, but there were times when Shepard wondered if the reporter just couldn’t help herself.  “I wanted to check in on you myself,” Allers finally said, her eyes dropping to look at her hands for a long moment.  “The stories out there …  Well, let’s just say I like to ‘verify my sources’ and leave it at that, hmm?”  Shepard saw some sort of emotion behind the woman’s eyes, but she couldn’t quite decide what it was.  When Allers began fidgeting, Shepard became a bit concerned.  “I guess what I’m wanting to say is I’m sorry I couldn’t be there at the very end -”  
  
Shepard caught on almost immediately and snorted softly to interrupt her.  “I’m not,” she growled softly, the sincerity of her words more than evident in her tone.  “Diana, most of Hammer, what was left of Hammer anyway, was killed in that last run to the Conduit.  I understand the need you had to report everything for your viewers, but you would have lost your life needlessly then … if not sooner.”  
  
Allers turned her head to give Shepard a hard look.  “It’s my job, Major.  I went in knowing the risks.  Hell, I knew simply being embedded on the _Normandy_ would pin a target to my back.  But I jumped at the chance.  You know why?”  She straightened then, giving Shepard a long look but not seeming to expect her to reply.  “Because it was needed.  You had your duty, Major, and I had mine.  In some ways, our jobs back then were very similar.”  
  
Shepard’s brow raised at this.  A soft smirk toying at her lips, she commented dryly, “Oh, this I _have_ to hear.”  
  
Diana smiled, but Shepard could see the woman was in all seriousness.  “Your job was to unite everyone in order to defeat the Reapers.  So was mine.”    
  
Sighing, Shepard reluctantly nodded.  “Alright,” she murmured, “I will give you that one.  But I still maintain that it was better for you to not be there at the end.”  Though there were more reasons than she was acknowledging to the woman behind this belief.  
  
Diana’s smile widened a bit.  “In the long run, I suppose you’re right,” she finally admitted.  Then a flash in her eyes as she added, “I suppose you did me a favor in that, too, since my survival has brought me where I am today and the success along with it.”    
  
Shepard groaned softly thinking back on some of the reports she had seen since regaining consciousness.   _Always the reporter.  Some things never change._  “Glad I could help.”  
  
There was a moment of somewhat strained silence after that, but it was only a moment as they both realized that their friendship, and indeed it could be called that, was still there.  When Diana started laughing, Shepard joined in and the momentary tension dissolved.  
  
“I am glad to see that you were able to make it out in the end,” Allers announced when she’d recovered herself enough.  
  
“Hmm.”  Shepard now turned to face the bay, memories flooding back rapidly, clearly, as if it had only happened just hours before.   The interminable distance that they’d had to run across that no man’s land as Harbinger tried to take her and her fellow squad members out.  The acrid smell of burned flesh, metal and rubber from Harbinger’s beam as he tried to annihilate Shepard and her fellow soldiers in their efforts. The cries and screams of the injured and dying as one by one they all went down.  The look of unspoken panic and fear warring with the need to be with her at the end that had crossed both Kaidan’s and Liara’s faces as Shepard left them aboard the _Normandy_ before turning to run off to face the unknown all alone ….  
  
“ … Shepard?”  
  
Diana’s voice became an anchor to the present just then and Shepard blinked rapidly for a moment before turning back to face the reporter.  “Hmm?  Sorry … memories,” she managed to mumble while staring down at slightly shaking hands.  “Flashbacks.  Dr. Michel told me I’d have them occasionally.”  
  
Diana nodded, a sympathetic smile playing across her face just then.  “I understand.  Trust me - I might not have been on the front lines, but I have my own flashbacks after London.”  
  
Eyeing the reporter briefly, Shepard nodded.  She doubted anyone who had been there would come away from that battle unscathed or unscarred in some fashion.  After a moment, Shepard attempted to shift the conversation again.  “You know, once I realized it was you out there,” she nodded her head in the vague direction of the reception area, “I half-expected that you might start drilling me with questions from your viewers.”  She managed a slightly forced smile as she recollected some of their sessions that had taken place on board the _Normandy_.  While she couldn’t exactly call them pleasant experiences, she knew she’d been through much worse before at the hands of other reporters.  Diana at least appeared to have some sense of common decency.  “I seem to recall they were the driving force behind most of your stories.”  
  
Allers chuckled good naturedly at this.  “Not this time,” she replied.  “This visit was strictly on my own.  Not even a camerabot in tow.”  
  
Shepard grinned.  “So I’d noticed,” she teased.  Sighing softly, she added, “I’d offer you an exclusive interview, Allers, but I’m now deskbound as you can see,” she gestured indoors towards her desk, “and I think your viewers might become a little disillusioned by that.”  Affecting a slightly more dramatic tone, Shepard attempted, “‘The great Commander Shepard, now chained to a desk.  Were reports of her actions just rumors?’”  
  
More laughter.  “Oh, I’m sure we can come up with something,” Allers replied in true reporter fashion.  “Eventually.  We can even spice it up a bit if we have to.”  
  
Shepard gave the other woman a slight frown as her natural reaction to the press kicked in full.  “I’ve seen what your kind mean by ‘spice it up,’ Allers,” she replied in a flat voice, “and I’m not interested.”  
  
Apparently, her reaction was just what Allers had been looking for because the reporter delighted in laughing even harder.  “Now, Major, have I done anything in past to be worthy of such a lack of trust?”  
  
“Hmpf.”  As much as it might pain Shepard to admit it, she had to give Diana credit there.  Nothing she had done had ever made Shepard wary of her methods or motives.  In actuality, the woman had upon a couple of occasions even gone to extra measures to help Shepard out, even on a more personal level at times.  Plus, there was the fact that she and Diana were both ‘colony kids.’  There was a bond there that Shepard could not deny.  “We’ll have to wait and see,” was all she would commit to at that point.  
  
Diana chuckled again.  “Alright, Major.  I can live with that,” the reporter finally agreed.  Straightening, Allers turned to face Shepard once more.  “Alright.  I’ve wasted enough of your time today.  Seriously, I just wanted to see for myself that you had survived, that you were alright.”  She bit her lip for a moment, a telling sign that was not lost on Shepard.  “I’d heard about the _Normandy_ , and ….”  
  
Shepard’s eyes closed for a brief moment.  “Yeah.”    
  
“Look,” she broke in again, and as Shepard opened her eyes again she saw the sincerity in the reporter’s eyes, “if you need anything, just let me know, okay?  I’m serious, Shepard.  Anything at all.  Call me.”  
  
Shepard smiled and nodded, touched by the woman’s concern.  “Thanks.  I will.”  As Allers turned to leave then, Shepard called after her, “And Diana?”  She waited for the reporter to glance back over her shoulder.  “Call Shannon next week and arrange a time for us to talk.  You’ll have that exclusive interview.  I promise.”  Though Allers’ only response was a wave of her hand as she walked away, Shepard had thought she saw a flash of victory in the woman’s eyes before she turned.  Shaking her head in amusement, Shepard returned to her desk to continue with her day.  
  



	5. Morning, Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we begin to find out about Lieutenant Shannon Duquesne and her background.

  
  
  
There were times of late when Shannon seriously wondered why she had ever allowed Admiral Hackett to talk her into this.  After all, she was a field agent, wasn’t she?  Special ops?  Hadn’t she proved herself well enough during the war?  Now, to be relegated to a desk position as assistant and (silent) bodyguard to the woman who had saved the whole galaxy from extinction ….  
  
Shannon sighed and took a long sip from her coffee mug.  Grimacing as the scalding liquid took its toll, she swallowed it anyway hoping that the caffeine in it would help improve her mood.  She should be thankful for this opportunity.  She knew that.  And honestly, she was.  But, after what she’d gone through, what she’d seen and experienced during the war, this was easy duty by comparison.  And, it allowed too much time for memories to come back ….  She needed to keep busy, focused.  A goal to focus on.   _That’s_ what she needed.  
  
But no.  She was personal assistant to Commander-now-Major Shepard.  Savior of the galaxy.  It didn’t occur to Shannon that this would look good on her career file.  Or that it was a step towards future promotion.  Truthfully, Shannon was grateful for the opportunity.  From the moment Admiral Hackett had selected her squad to search the rubble of the Citadel for Shepard, Shannon had felt a sense of duty and obligation above and beyond any other before in her life.  And that was saying something.  Of course, some of that had also tied in with her former teacher, too.  
  
Staring blankly at her monitor, Shannon took another sip of her coffee and allowed her thoughts to slip back to those months before the invasion when she’d first met him.  God.  They’d been so young then.  Kids.  Barely out of their teens even.  It had been the three of them … Shannon, Nick and Drew.  And the Major, well ….  
  
 _Walking through the halls, wedged as she was between the both of them, Shannon could only roll her eyes as her brother and fiance rambled on again about their first day of training.  At this point, it was still only speculation, though that would be ending in just a few minutes.  First Biotics Division.  Spec Ops.  A completely new program, arranged for those who showed the best and brightest potential throughout Earth and the colonies.  Shannon herself was surprised when she and her companions had been selected for the program.  They’d only enlisted just months before … though now she had to wonder if the Major who’d been recruiting them at the time had maybe come calling on them for a specific reason …._  
  
 _They entered the classroom as they always did, side by side.  From the moment the three had met in school, they’d been inseparable.  Well, Nick didn’t really count, she supposed, since she’d had to live with him her entire life.  Older brothers could be annoying that way.  But Drew …?  Yeah, he was something special.  Apparently, he thought she was too, because he’d been hanging around with them every since.  It had started as friendship between them and gradually developed into something more, and now it was simply waiting for the ‘right moment’ to make it official.  They would get married and the three friends would be family._  
  
 _Which was more than she could say for her real family.  Sighing, Shannon took a seat at a desk, Nick and Drew sitting on either side as they always did.  Dad was always away.  Had been since she was about ten, Nick twelve.  Mom had taken custody of them then, for all that had been worth.  Tensions between her parents had been nothing short of acrimonious by the time her parents had officially split.  Both she and Nick had seen it coming, though.  The real surprise had been that they’d managed to wait so long as they did.  It was only after the two siblings had been sent off for biotic training in their teens that their parents had made it official.  Dad would remain at the Citadel, his job keeping him busy all the time and away from them.  Mom would remain on Earth, doing whatever it was she called a job at that particular moment.  Shannon and Nick had gratefully accepted the stability that the school they’d been sent to offered and focused on that._  
  
 _Not that they hadn’t seen their father over the years.  They had.  A few times.  When mom had allowed it, that was.  Oh, he’d been sneaky once or twice and managed to get in touch with them at school, without her permission.  Shannon smiled at the memory.  She missed her father something fierce.  She certainly had gotten on better with him than her mom over the years, but when it came down to it, no one had asked who she wanted to be with.  Or Nick.  So they’d actually sort of just … been with each other and dealt with the rest of it as best they could.  ‘Sibling survivors,’ they’d called themselves._  
  
 _That was just as Drew had come into the mix.  Student at the same biotic school, he’d found them one afternoon, sitting out in the courtyard between classes, talking, tossing small singularities back and forth at the other in practice.  Shannon had been leaning back against a tree, worrying about something or other (probably some comment mom had made in her latest message) and Nick had been trying to reassure her.  Drew had arrived, introduced himself, and soon was chatting away with them.  Come to find, Drew was an only child, unused to the sort of relationship he found between Nick and Shannon.  But he also brought an outside perspective to their situation that the siblings had lacked.  After a time, the three had become fast friends and constant partners in almost every aspect of their life at school._  
  
 _An elbow to her arm had Shannon turning towards Drew.  “Hey,” he murmured, nodding towards the front of the room, “isn’t that the guy …?”_  
  
 _Her eyes turned, but before Shannon could answer, Nick was nodding.  “Yeah.  He’s the one who talked us into this whole thing.”  Shannon nodded as well.  One of her little quirks was never forgetting a face, and this one had especially stood out in her memory._  
  
 _A moment later, they all found out who ‘That guy’ was … and from that  moment forward, he’d had three completely dedicated students._  
  
Shannon’s thoughts were brought back to the present with the sound of the door to the office opening.  Turning, she searched deep and found a wide smile while rising to her feet.  “Good morning, Major,” she greeted her boss.  “I’ve got your agenda for the day.  Admiral Hackett asked if you’d make a space for him this afternoon for about an hour.”  
  
Major Shepard crossed the room slowly but surely, a sign that her injuries were still healing but that progress was being made.  “Thank you, Shannon.”    
  
Following Shepard into her office, Shannon added, “Dr. Michel says that she will be by in an hour or so to see you.  Something about ‘turian chocolates’?”  
  
Shepard chuckled as she took a seat at her desk.  “Not surprising,” she murmured.  “Alright.  Give me ten to fifteen minutes to get caught up on the day then you can give me the full brief.”  
  
Laying the datapad on the major’s desk, Shannon nodded and turned to leave.  “Yes, ma’am.”  
  
Back at her desk, Shannon took her seat.   _First Biotics Division._  Sighing, she settled into her normal morning routine.  This might not be what she had been so highly trained for, or what she was used to after her activities during the war, but at least she was alive.  A survivor.  And that was something at least.


	6. Sisters By Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miranda and Oriana snuck up on me for this one. I must admit, I do enjoy writing them.

News coverage was sparse, barely a word mentioned across the extranet and when it was, it was couched by references to ongoing reconstruction and the requisite security protocols that often accompanied such things.  The usual bland explanation, the sort that any common civilian would simply come to expect and accept without question.  
  
But she was far from common.  Engineered to be the best, or as close to it as possible, she understood far more from what was _NOT_ said.  And if she had figured it out …?  
  
“Randa?”    
  
 _Damn._  “Yes, Ori?”  
  
“Did they just say what I think they said?”  
  
Sighing, Miranda pushed away from her desk, rising to her feet and crossing the room to join her sister on the sofa.  Oriana had taken up Miranda’s habit of having ANN on live in the background twenty-four/seven, though admittedly, it was currently showing the evening broadcast.  
  
Was there a way to get around this?  To keep Oriana from worrying?  Miranda had noticed in their last visit the closeness that was beginning to develop between Shepard and the younger Lawson.  This in itself didn’t really bother Miranda.  Well, it did, but the jealousy that Miranda felt was something she was trying to deal with on her own.  At any rate, the point was that Major Shepard had made an impact on Oriana the several times that the two women had met.   _And that’s not necessarily a bad thing_ , Miranda reminded herself.  
  
“What do you think they just said?” Miranda challenged.  Part of her couldn’t help it, almost testing Ori as she was.  Ori was younger, still developing, learning without all the added pressures and influences that Miranda had been subjected to while growing up.  She was curious to see if Ori would still develop similar skills but under more appropriate conditions.  
  
Oriana turned to face her sister.  Lifting her hand, she began ticking off items on her fingers as she spoke.  “First, there’s the tightened security.  Second, access by certain groups is no longer permitted in some areas.  Third, weapons are to be checked at the main gates.”  
  
Miranda sighed again.  No doubt about it.  Ori had caught on.  “That last one has been in place before now,” Miranda stated in a mild tone.  
  
Oriana snorted.  “Maybe, but it wasn’t like they enforced it or anything.”  
  
Miranda had to give Ori that point.  During their last visit, after all, ….  
  
“Everything points to something having happened,” Ori concluded.    
  
“ _SOME_ thing,” Miranda echoed.  “What, though?  Any ideas?”  
  
Oriana sat back and began mulling it over.  Pulling her lip between her teeth, she began worrying it.  Even after Miranda swatted at her and said, “Stop that!” Oriana simply chose to ignore her.  After several long moments, she faced her sister again.  “Everything points to a security breach,” she announced quietly.  “An attack of some sort.”  
  
Miranda sighed a third time.  Damn, Ori was better at this than Miranda had credited her.  Nodding, she murmured, “Well done, Ori,” before rising.  
  
“And I think Shepard was the intended target.”  
  
That comment had Miranda pausing mid-stride, halfway into the kitchen.  “Why?”  It was a logical conclusion, she supposed, though she could think of other potential targets in the same location.  It didn’t _have_ to be Shepard.  
  
Rising to join her sister in the other room, Ori replied, “Because like you, Randa, I’ve come to expect the worst out of any given situation.”  
  
This time, Miranda groaned as she sighed.  “Ori -”  
  
Oriana gave her sister a sad smile.  “It’s okay, Randa,” she told her.  “It wasn’t anything you did, or father for that matter, or even Cerberus.  It’s … life in general.  I think many a survivor of the Reapers will likely feel the same.”  
  
And in that moment, Miranda realized just how grown up her sister actually was.  “Probably,” she agreed quietly.    
  
“So, what are we going to do about it?”  
  
Miranda blinked for a moment.  “About?”  
  
“Shepard.”  
  
 _That_ had Miranda’s brow arching in surprise.  “We?” she challenged.  
  
“Hey, she’s my friend too, you know!”  
  
And for just a moment, Miranda laughed, relaxing enough to enjoy the moment with her sister.  Turning towards the refrigerator to start their dinner, Miranda finally replied, “Oh, I don’t know … but I’m thinking I might need to schedule an appointment with our mutual friend ….”

* * *

  
  
Shepard glanced at her daily agenda, a soft smile playing at her lips.  It was still there.  It wasn’t a figment of her imagination.  Lightly running her fingertip over the name and time, Shepard chuckled softly at her reaction.  After their last visit, she had certainly hoped to see her friend again, but … so soon?  That didn’t seem like the Miranda she’d come to know over time.  
  
Leaning back in her chair, Shepard sighed softly.  Ever so slowly, pieces of the puzzle that was her life at this moment in time were working themselves back into their proper places.  Sure, there were larger gaps, the largest belonging to the _Normandy_ and her crew, but others were shifting and sorting themselves out as well.  Kasumi.  Dr. Michel.  Diana Allers.  And, of course, Miranda and Oriana Lawson.  
  
“Major,” Shannon’s voice broke in to announce, “Miranda Lawson has arrived.”  
  
“Send her in.”  Shepard had to admit a small bit of disappointment that Miranda had come alone.  She was becoming fond of the younger Lawson too, and Oriana certainly seemed to return the sentiment.  
  
Shepard had started crossing the room as the door opened.  A quick glance at Miranda had Shepard curious though.  Miranda seemed genuinely concerned as she entered, meeting Shepard about halfway through.  Eyes darting around, searching for danger, Shepard was a bit uncertain as to how to take her friend’s reaction.  As she usually did in situations such as these, Shepard fell back to her usually dry sense of humor.  “Something I should be worried about?”  
  
It seemed to help.  Miranda even chuckled in reaction, the lightest stain of pink flushing her cheeks in embarrassment as she stepped closer and shook the hand Shepard offered.  A smirk crossing her face, she returned, “I don’t know.  I’ve heard pregnancy does strange things to a person.  Affects their moods.  Makes them think crazy things … like maybe they’re invulnerable to attack?”  
  
Shepard snorted softly, her nose scrunching just a bit as she made a face at Miranda.  That the other woman had figured out that something had happened was of no surprise to her.  To be honest, Shepard would have been disappointed if Miranda _hadn’t_ figured it out.  “Uh huh.”  She led Miranda over to the sofa where they both could sit more comfortably.  “Where’s Ori?”  
  
Miranda smiled.  “Next visit,” she murmured.  And then, “Christ, Shepard.  What the hell happened?”  
  
Shepard sighed and began giving her friend a very detailed and uncensored version of the events that had unfolded just days before.

* * *

  
  
Miranda watched the woman sitting before her closely.  There were some very telling clues Shepard was giving off at the moment, and Miranda found them to be quite … entertaining.  She wondered silently if Shepard even realized she was behaving this way.  For starters, and one that did not surprise Miranda in the least, was the Major’s tone as she spoke.  Straightforward.  No nonsense.  Perhaps a bit more fierce than when last she’d heard it like this, but this was the voice of a woman used to giving orders and of having them carried out without question.  Of someone willing to do whatever it took to get the job done.  Perhaps with a bit more mama-bear-protecting-her-cubs thrown in it this time, though.  
  
But what really caught Miranda’s attention this visit was the woman’s body language.  Shepard sat back, more or less relaxed, but with her hand lying protectively over the gentle swell of her belly.  When last they’d seen each other, Shepard’s pregnancy had still been new, emotions not yet dealt with, reactions unknown.  Today, it was clear to Miranda that the woman before her had accepted the situation and, as she seemed to do with all other areas of her life, would fight to protect it with a tenacity rivaling that of a wild varren standing guard over it’s kill.    
  
Turning her attention back towards the conversation, Miranda observed, “Well, I have to agree, it sounds as if it could be a Cerberus cell involved.”  She tapped a finger against her lip for a moment wondering if she had any resources or contacts still available to help narrow down the possibilities.  
  
“My thoughts exactly,” Shepard replied.  
  
“I’ll see if I can’t find out anything.”  She had to make the offer at least.  She owed Shepard that much.  “No promises, but you never know what you might find when you start turning over rocks.”  
  
Shepard chuckled.  “Just stay safe, Miranda.  I’d hate to bring any further trouble onto you or Ori now that you’ve pretty much been removed from Cerberus’ radar.”  
  
“Don’t worry about us, Shepard,” Miranda replied with a smile.  “We can take care of ourselves.  Besides, I’ve come across one or two old friends who have offered assistance should we need it.”  
  
That caught the major’s interest, Miranda noticed, as a brow arched in curiosity.  “Oh?  Anyone I might know?”  
  
Miranda chuckled.  “Several, in fact.  I’ve heard from Kasumi, if you can believe it.”  
  
Shepard grinned.  “So have I.”  
  
“And Jacob.  Seems he’s settling down a bit now,” Miranda explained, a bit of humor twinkling in her eyes, “going all domestic.  But he’s promised to be there if ever I need him.”  
  
Shepard nodded.  “Sounds good.  Last time I heard from him or saw him was … oh, right before London, I think.  About the same time I saw you.”  
  
They continued reminiscing about old companions for a time, those both alive or now passed, but eventually the conversation turned towards a discussion about the Illusive Man.  “You do realize, don’t you, that the Illusive Man wasn’t the worst of that bunch?  There were others - may still be others - making rumbles in whatever is left of the organization.  There would be a power vacuum now, and the only thing we can do is wait and see who comes out on top.”  
  
Shepard sighed.  “I figured as much.  Don’t suppose you’d have any leads on that?”  
  
Miranda chuckled.  “Careful, Shepard,” she teased.  “Your subtlety is showing.”  Shepard just snorted softly, ignoring the barb.  “Seriously though, I’m not sure.  Let me do some checking and I will get back with you as soon as I can find something out.”  
  
Shepard nodded.  “Fair enough.”  
  
Miranda rose to her feet then and Shepard followed suit.  “As much as I hate to say it,” Miranda told her with a warm smile, “I should get going.”  
  
Shepard glanced at her omni tool, surprised by the time she found there.  “So soon?”  
  
Miranda’s smile softened just a bit more.  “Old habits,” she replied.  “They’ve saved my life more times than I can count over the years.  Besides, I’ve no doubt we’ll be seeing more of each other soon enough.”  
  
Shepard followed behind Miranda as she approached the door.  “If Oriana has her way, certainly.”  
  
Chuckling Miranda nodded.  “No doubt.”  Facing Shepard now, she grinned.  “See you around, Shepard.”  
  
“That you will, my friend.”  
  
One last glance over her shoulder as she exited the office and Miranda found she wasn’t surprised in the slightest to observe Shepard standing there, arms crossed over her chest, leaning just a bit against the doorframe.  It was a pose she’d witnessed hundreds of times during their service together, and one that Miranda felt comforted to see.  Shepard had been right after all, it seemed.  Not everything had to change.


	7. Lessons

Lower lip drawn in tightly between her teeth, hands holding steady as she focused, Shepard slowly drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment.  Ever so carefully, she lined it up and ….  
  
A patient voice from across the room, only slightly tinged with amusement, broke into her thoughts.  “Shepard, you’re slicing an onion, dear, not shooting at a Reaper,” Katryn Alenko reminded her gently.  “Relax or you’ll accidentally cut yourself.”  
  
Shepard blinked in confusion, pausing to stare down at her hands for a long moment.  Looking at them in this light, in this setting, it surprised her just how old her hands looked.  Nicked and dinged over the years, scars aplenty, it was easy to see that they were the hands of a warrior.  The small finger on her left hand was slightly bent now, the only obvious reminder left from her escape from the batarians on Mindoir so long ago.  The small puckerings on the back of her right hand a memory from Akuze and that damned thresher maw that had taken out her entire team.  But not all scars could be seen, that she knew.  Like many of the ones she carried personally, inside her, each named for those she had known and cared for - her parents … her twin ... Ashley … Mordin … Thane … Legion … Anderson.  She also had some invisible scars on her hands thanks to the doctors, or prior to that, Miranda.  Work done to keep her alive, to give her back mobility.  To give her purpose.  But scars were scars and the memories would always be there whether the proof of them was or not ….    
  
A tear rolled down her cheek, then a second, and as Shepard lowered her gaze, shifting slightly to her left, she could see the drop of moisture releasing from her cheek to fall onto her wrist, felt the cool moisture as it slowly trailed along weathered skin there.  Sniffling once, she lifted the sleeve of her hoodie and swiped at her eyes and nose.    
  
A hand at her shoulder caused Shepard to glance up to her right.  “Slice quickly, dear,” Katryn murmured, nodding towards the vegetable and the knife lying loosely in Shepard’s hand.  “The sooner you are done with this, the sooner your eyes will stop tearing up.”  
  
Shepard sniffed again, a soft chuckle behind the sound.  “I’d forgotten,” she admitted, a smile playing at the corner of her lips as the memories faded to the background once more.  “It’s been so long ….”  
  
Katryn smiled warmly in return.  “We’ll have you cooking again in no time,” she promised.  “If I could manage to get Kaidan interested, I can help you a bit along the way too.”  
  
Shepard’s eyes met Katryn’s, and though she was certain Kaidan’s mother noticed the pain that flashed there, the older woman didn’t comment and that eased Shepard’s mind just a bit.  “So,” Shepard mused with a final small sniffle, “you taught Kaidan to cook?”  
  
Katryn walked back over to the other side of the room where she stirred at the large pot on the stovetop.  “Indeed I did,” she replied.  “He was … oh, I think about seventeen?  He’d been back from that biotic camp for a little while but was still trying to come to terms with things.  He seemed so lost for such a long time … but then one day, out of the blue, he asked if I’d teach him.  I agreed … and the rest, as they say, was history.”  
  
Shepard’s smile widened as she tried to imagine a seventeen year old Kaidan learning how to cook in this very kitchen.  Moving quickly, she sliced the onion, moved on to the carrots and celery and then reached for the mushrooms.  “It’s been so long,” she murmured, tilting her head as she quartered one of the small fungi.  “I think the last time I helped in a kitchen I was fifteen …   
  
\----  
  
 _“Layer it in there just … so.”_  
  
 _Shepard frowned.  “But … mom, why put it all in the same pan?  Wouldn’t it be better to cook the meat separate from the vegetables and such?”_  
  
 _“Why not?” her mother challenged easily.  And then with a grin and a slight pat on her daughter’s stomach, she added, “It all goes to the same place, doesn’t it?”_  
  
 _Shepard rolled her eyes.  Hands filled with pans and spoons, she was unable to bat her mother’s arm away without making a mess of their dinner.  “Where’s Kaysey?” she asked then, glancing around the room.  This was the sort of thing she expected her twin to be involved in.  Probably more so than her._  
  
 _“Dearest, Kaysey already knows how to make Shepard’s Pie.  You do not ….”_  
  
\----  
  
Katryn chuckled, the sound catching Shepard’s attention.  Glancing over, she saw Kaidan’s mother adding some herbs to the stockpot.  “Shepard’s Pie, hmm?” she echoed.  
  
Shepard gave her a somewhat abashed grin.  “Lame, I know, but there you have it,” she replied as she finished slicing the mushrooms and realized that she had nothing left to slice.    
  
Katryn retrieved them and added them to the pot.  “Not lame at all,” she replied.  “Everyone should have a signature dish.”    
  
Shepard actually snorted softly at that.  “I’d hardly call it my ‘signature dish,’ Katryn,” she returned.  “It was more likely the simplest one my mother could teach me.  Kaysey was always better at cooking.  I was a hopeless cause in the kitchen.”  
  
Katryn returned to Shepard’s side then, placing an arm around her shoulders and squeezing reassuringly.  “No one is truly hopeless in a kitchen,” she admonished.  “It’s just a matter of finding what you’re good at.”  When Shepard rolled her eyes, Katryn chuckled.  “Well, alright, maybe this might take a while … but we’ve got time.  We’ll plan it out.  We can set goals and such.”  
  
Shepard gave in to instinct, arm sliding around Katryn in return and hugging her back for a moment.  “A battle plan of sorts?” she asked, the catch in her voice barely noticeable.    
  
Katryn actually laughed. “I should have known!  The intrepid Commander Shepard goes into all aspects of life with a battle plan!”    
  
Shepard chuckled softly, though she felt a warmth at her cheeks.  Not for the first time was she silently thankful for making the decision to reach out to Kaidan’s mother.  Shepard might not have her own family, Kaidan or the rest of the _Normandy_ crew, but Katryn certainly filled some of the holes left by their absence.  “So then,” she asked, giving Katryn a wide grin, “next objective?”  


End file.
